


Partners with Benefits

by Motherof4dragons



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Co-workers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Motherof4dragons/pseuds/Motherof4dragons
Summary: I'll stop you right there. I know what you're thinking. It's what everybody asks. No, I'm not banging my partner. I know she's gorgeous, wicked smart, and can kick a guys butt with her eyes closed. But she trusts me to guard her back. Not stare at her backside.It doesn't matter that every time I watch her slap the handcuffs on a suspect, I imagine she's doing it to me—one cuff on the wrist, the other to my headboard.Some lines can't be crossed—Until they can.ORKylo and Rey are FBI partners who know never to cross that line. Until they do.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 24
Kudos: 162
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Reylo Fic. Be kind to me. I posted it in full, rather than chapters.

** _Chapter One_ **

** _Kylo_ **

Knock, knock, knock.

I wait for the obligatory “Yup” from my boss’s office before I open the door and stick my body half-way in.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” I ask, and at his grunt of assertion, open the door and walk into the room.

“Shut it,” he says, in a voice gruff from years of smoking, then motions toward the door. I do as he asks, shutting the door behind me.

It’s almost 7 p.m. on a Friday night. Most departments have been gone for hours already. Mine is just trickling in. We have an op tonight, which will keep us out to who knows how long.

I think about what normal people do on a Friday night. Dinner and a movie? Netflix and chill? Maybe they take their favorite girl out to a Broadway show, or a monster truck rally.

I _will_ be spending the night with my favorite girl. Only my girl comes with a 9mm and handcuffs, and, unfortunately, those handcuffs aren’t meant for me.

The boss looks frazzled tonight, an observation borne out by the way he runs his hands over his balding head, leaving strands of hair sticking up in every direction.

“Luce with you?” he asks, looking around as if she might melt out of the shadows, or perhaps pop out of my pocket. I give him an amused smirk, turning in a circle with my arms raised at my side.

“Does it look like it?” I ask, and am rewarded with another grunt, this time tinged with amusement. That’s Ackbar, Special Supervisory Agent for the FBI. A man of little words. He can communicate an entire range of emotions with just that little sound.

“Do you need us together? I’m sure she’s on her way.”

“No, no. Just you tonight. It’s just strange to see you without her. She’s usually attached at your hip.”

It’s more the other way around, but I don’t think it’s in my best interest at the moment to point that out.

“I’ve got good news, and bad news,” he says. “What do you want first?”

“Bad news,” I say, with only a moment’s hesitation.

“Tough,” he grunts, leaning back in his chair. “I gotta give it in a specific order.”

“Then why’d you bother asking?” I snark at him, wary amusement sneaking into my voice.

“Well, there was always the chance you’d say good news first, then it would look like I was doing something nice for you. Here,” he says, dropping a file folder onto his desk. “Congratulations. You got the job.”

“Huh?”

I walk to his desk, grabbing the file and flipping it open. It’s an acceptance letter for an analyst position two pay grades above my own.

“I haven’t applied for a new position, Ackbar,” I comment, flipping through the meager contents of the file.

“Not recently, no. But they needed the position filled asap. Your application was still on file.”

“From like a year ago.”

“Do you want the job or not?” he questions, reaching for his desk phone like he’s about to call and decline on my behalf.

“Nonono,” I rush out, my hand up to stop him. “I want it. You know I do.” I ignore the way his gaze penetrates me, since he knows exactly _why_ I want the job, and he’s kind enough not to mention why I’m so desperate for a change in job title.

“Well. Yes. There’s still the bad news.” His voice is almost apologetic, and I swear there’s pity in his eyes.

I don’t bother to say anything, and hold my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. He puts his hand up, as if to ward off my expected protests.

“Before you open your mouth to yell at me about the short notice, I found out all of ten minutes ago myself. But they need you Monday.”

That’s all? I don’t know why he thought that would be bad news. Hell, that’s great news!

“In North Carolina.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Mother Fucker. The breath I was holding whooshes out of me, and I try to pull my shoulders back while my chest deflates in on itself. That’s not bad news. That’s ‘Dorothy’s house dropping out of the sky and landing right on your head’ news.

North Carolina. That’s like what? Five state lines away? Six, eight hours? I applied for the analyst job eighteen months ago at least, so that I could finally get closer to Rey. Somehow, I don’t see a cross country move now as working in my favor.

“I, ah—” And that’s all I can say, my mind rushing ahead trying to analyze all the different ways in which this just fucked up my life.

“Think about it,” Ackbar says, not without sympathy in his voice. “Let me know tomorrow morning. This is a good career move, Kylo. It’s exactly what a man like you needs to move up in this world. Lead technical analyst is a dream position, but I know there are other things for you to consider. There’s flight information in there,” he says, using another folder to point to the one in my hands, “as well as hotel info. They’ll house you until you get settled.”

“Yeah, Ackbar. Thanks.” I start to head out, but he stops me with another grunt. “Talk it out with Rey. See what she says. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’ll point you in the right direction. But don’t do it until after the raid tonight. I can’t have my best agent distracted.”

Despite my gloom, a half-hearted chuckle slips from my lips.

He means Rey, _not_ me.

Special Agent Rey Kenobi. Brown hair, 5’4, black belt in more martial arts then I can remember off the top of my head, and my partner for the last three and a half years. Rey’s parents are a Diplomat and a CIA agent who met in the field. They adopted her a year later. She was born to be a spy. Why she’s slumming it with us in the FBI, I couldn’t tell you. But while I’m good at my job, Rey _is_ the best.

“Don’t wait too long though. You know the way that girl is. She can sniff out a secret faster than a hound dog in a drug den.” Ackbar lived in Kentucky up until his transfer to New York five years ago. He doesn’t say much, but most of what he says is still steeped in southern slang and colloquialisms.

“You got it, boss.”

He picks up a file from his desk, obviously done with me, and when I don’t leave his office quick enough, says “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

I make my way down the hallway into the meeting area, the familiar path doing nothing to calm my raging insides.

We work in the FBI Special Teams Department, which means we handle anything that drops onto our desks. Members of our department are trickling in, lounging at desks and congregating at the proverbial water cooler, waiting for tonight’s show to get on the road.

I drop the folder Ackbar gave me onto my desk, but don’t bother to open it. Ackbar was right. I understand why he told me now; time is of the essence. But it’s not something I can afford to think about until our op is done tonight.

Three years and a handful of months. That’s how long Rey and I have been partners. It’s also about the same amount of time I’ve been trying to figure a way out of it. Sleeping with your partner isn’t strictly forbidden. There’s no underlying rule that says you can’t bang your co-worker. After all, we don’t exactly work normal hours. If you can’t hook up at work, there’s a good chance you don’t hook up at all.

I think the FBI understands that a man or woman with blue balls isn’t much good in the field.

But it’s different for us. Horribly, painfully different. There aren’t very many women in our department. Rey is the only female on our team. She’s worked her ass off to get where she is. If word got out she was involved with her partner, every scrap of respect she’s earned by being the best of us would get flushed down the drain. It would take less than a heartbeat for her to lose respect it’s taken her a lifetime to earn.

She’d be nothing more than another woman who opened her legs.

By silent acknowledgement, we agreed never to cross that line while we were still in the field together. We may have flirted with it. Danced with it. Maybe even stepped a toe over a time or two. But I refuse to be the cause of Rey losing her standing in the eyes of the FBI.

However, it’s been getting harder and harder these last few months, no pun intended, to ignore the elephant in the room. I’m sure Ackbar isn’t the only one who’s noticed. We desperately need something to break our stalemate. This isn’t what I was looking for.

When I applied for the analyst position, a lifetime ago it feels like, I had planned on moving two floors down. Not five states away. Clearing a path for us to be together does very little if we aren’t even in the same time zone.

Though, it’s not actually in a different time zone.

Still, the point stands.

Lost in my own ruminations, it isn’t until I hear the catcalls that I notice the knock-out making her way into our floor.

I rise from my chair, perching on the edge of my desk instead, as I watch the woman in black heels give a Cheshire grin and flip off the guys from our department.

I let my eyes wander, starting at her feet and working my way up. Five-inch heels that show the sculpted muscles in her calves. Thighs that seem to go on forever. Her dress is demure in its length, stopping an inch or two above her knee. Long enough to pass a high school fingertip test at least. But then she stops and turns to talk to someone, and I see her back bare, covered by nothing but a thin strap holding her dress on, and a sheet of red hair that ends mid spine. The fabric is a shocking blue color, made even brighter by the passion red lipstick coating her mouth. The dress flows over her skin like water, and I can’t wait to feel its texture between my fingertips.

She makes her way over to me at my desk, and I shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her and tugging her into me.

“I can feel you staring at me,” she says, an amused smirk pulling at her lips.

“Good,” I say. “That’s my job. To guard your back. You should always feel me behind you.” My voice is gruffer than it should be. Frustration from my conversation with Ackbar combines with my desire for my partner. I smile at her and shrug, trying to push off the tension rising between us.

“Be that as it may, and don’t think I don’t appreciate how well you cover my ass,” she says playfully, and there’s a double entendre if I’ve ever heard one, “I don’t think my _behind_ is in too much danger in the FBI building.”

I laugh at her insinuation, feeling myself relax into her banter.

Rey is the best undercover agent we have. She slips in and out of personalities the way most of us change our shoes. If it weren’t for the fact that I spend half my life trying not to stare at her the way I am now, and the other half memorizing her form until I could sketch it with my eyes closed, I would have never known it was her.

“You know the red wig is my favorite,” I say conversationally, running my fingers gently through the tips of her hair. Someone once told me, years ago, that one of the benefits of sleeping with Rey is that you could fuck a new woman every other week and not even have to cheat on her. I broke his nose.

Though, if you think about it, he wasn’t wrong.

She drops me a sassy wink, and my heart flutters in my chest. “Why else do you think I wore it?” Suddenly her expression sobers, concern coming over her features. “You okay?” she asks, curiosity and concern filling her voice.

“How do you do that?” I wonder out loud, amazement warming my chest. “I’ve been in your presence for less than a minute.”

She shrugs, a small smile on her face meant just for me. “You’re my partner,” she replies, as if that should answer my question. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head, letting a smile tip my mouth upwards. “Not right now,” I murmur, and she nods, giving my forearm a squeeze before facing towards the whiteboard and talking with one of the DEA agents about the club we’ll be in tonight.

The rest of the team trickle in, and as each man gets a look at her, another comment on her appearance floats into the atmosphere, most of them good-natured. We’re well used to the outfits she’s forced to wear when she goes undercover. She’s made a career, a good one, out of being able to manipulate men with the curves of her body as she outsmarts them with her mind. It’s both a blessing and a curse that few other people would understand. Some of the guys, though, look at her with hunger in their eyes, and it’s all I can do to not knock them on their asses.

Rey senses my irritation, and reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder, before smiling at tonight’s team.

“Do I need to remind you boys that I _am_ carrying a gun?” she sasses, playing up to the crowd.

Most of them raise their arms in refusal, jokingly stepping back and out of her reach. Poe, always a smart one, covers up his crotch with both of his hands.

“No ma’am,” he says, sincerity in his voice. “I’ve seen you on the range. I’ll take your word for it.”

Rey smirks in their direction and I laugh quietly to myself. Poe is cocky, sarcastic, and realized early on that Rey was an ally he wanted to have.

“Don’t let her fool you none, Poe. She’s only our resident affirmative action. Tell me Princess, where are you supposed to hide a gun when you’re dressed like that?”

Hux is one of the guys who treats her like she’s lesser, simply for being a woman. Or, perhaps, because deep down he knows she’s twice the man he’ll ever be. I place my hand on the small of her back, stepping between her and Hux. She gives me an appreciative smile, but steps up beside me so it doesn’t appear like she’s cowering behind a man. It’s one of the things I hate about being her partner. My desire to see her shine wars with my desperation to keep her safe. It’s fucked me up a few times over the years.

Rey ignores Hux, settling herself to wait for the pre-op briefing.

Discreetly, I let my eyes wander up her form again, silently smug.

 _I_ know where her gun is. Strapped to her upper inner left thigh by a Spanx and Velcro custom holster. The holster is attached to a garter belt around her waist. Every dress she wears out on an operation is tested on the training mat and in the shooting range before it gets her seal of approval. She makes sure she can fight and shoot in everything she wears into the field. We tested the dress on Saturday. You can’t tell it by looking at her, but all it takes is her right foot stepping backwards and her gun is in her hand and aimed within two seconds.

I know. I’ve timed it.

“You’re just jealous you don’t look as good in a skirt and heels as Vanna White here does,” one of the other guys says to general laughter.

Hux eyes Rey, licking his lips obscenely as his gaze grazes over her form.

“I’m simply worried about our Princess here being able to protect herself,” Hux says, affecting a mocking tone. “I’d be happy to take you aside, teach you a few moves of self-defense in that teeny tiny dress.”

Ackbar walks up, using that same file folder as a pointer again.

“You know Hux, if we had the time, I just might let her kick your ass. It would serve you right, and I think we’d all get a kick out of it.”

“I know I would,” someone says from the peanut gallery. There’s a low humming noise in my ears, and I plant my feet to stop from closing the distance between Hux and me and teaching him some manners with my fist.

“ _Why. Are. You. Glitching?”_ Rey hisses at me between clenched teeth, pinching the skin of my upper arm between her fingers. It’s only when I open my mouth to say “ow” that I realize the low rumbling noise was coming from me. “Stop growling like my guard dog.”

About the same time Rey is digging her nails into my arm, Hux’s partner reaches out and smacks him upside the head. The group bursts into laughter again as Hux reaches up and rubs the back of his head, shooting his partner a nasty look.

“I hit his reset button,” Hux’s partner sniggers from his side. His voice is jovial, but his eyes shoot daggers in Hux’s direction.

“All I’d need is thirty seconds boss,” Rey croons. “Forty-five tops. Wouldn’t take me long at all.”

“Hmpf,” is all Ackbar says in response.

He hikes his pants up under his gut and runs a hand over his head, giving the assembled men one last look before turning and facing the board.

“Let’s focus, shall we?”

A focused stillness falls over the assembled people, petty concerns of interpersonal relationships falling to the wayside as we prep for tonight excursion. Ackbar uses the file in his hand to smack the grainy picture of the swarmy looking man in a white suit taped to the middle of the board.

“Namir Welch. Wanted by Interpol, as well as half a dozen other countries. On the FBI’s most wanted list for nigh on a decade now. While he started a plain Jane gangster, he’s branched out in the last few years. International arms dealing, drugs, girls. All around asshole as far as I’m concerned.

“However, he’s American born, so that makes him our problem. Trying to pin his exact location is like trying to catch a hog in mud, though rumor has it he’s been camped out in Morocco, your normal run of the mill nonextradition country. Two days ago, we got notification that he was meeting his cousin, Rafik, at Eleven45 in Midtown. Long thought to be a money laundering front, but without any proof, no agency has made a move on it yet. Until now. Yesterday, we confirmed that a private jet registered to one of his legal subsidiaries left Casablanca, arriving in New York this afternoon.

“We have three agencies in on tonight’s festivities. DEA,” and he pauses, giving a chance for the DEA members mixed in with our team to give a nod, “as well as the ATF.” A muscled man in a too-tight blue t-shirt and a tactical vest steps forward, gives a one fingered salute, then steps back into the fold. “The plan is simple. We’ll have three teams inside, as well as three vans outside and a TAC Team on standby. As soon as he shows, scoop him up. Arrest everyone, and we’ll figure out who we can keep later. Thanks to Rey, we have three CI’s in the club tonight.”

Rey steps forward, facing the group. “A bartender, a bouncer, and one of the servers are mine. They’ve been prepped for what to expect and are fully aware they’ll be arrested with the rest of the staff, to ensure we keep their identities safe. They’ve confirmed that security has been doubled around and inside the building, but couldn’t tell me why. They’ve arranged for me to have VIP access tonight, so we should have a set of eyes and ears in all areas of the club. If he shows, we’ll get him.”

“You’re not going to tell us who they are? You know, in case one of us needs to talk to them,” asks Hux, trying to be a pain in the ass.

“Nope,” is all she replies, looking him straight in the eye. At a sign from Ackbar, she takes her place at my side again.

“Any questions, comments or concerns?” Ackbar asks, looking around his assembled teams. The unnatural silence breaks, as people shake their heads and loosen up their limbs, turning to their comrades in arms.

“Good.” He twists up his wrist to get a look at his watch. A relic from the stone age. Or the eighties at least. “Get your gear, and get on the road. I want all undercover teams in the building by ten.”

You can tell who’s going inside and who’s not simply from the clothes we’re all wearing. We’re dressed with an interesting mix of dress clothes, clubbing gear, and cargo pants with extra magazines stashed in spare pockets. It’s barely eight o’clock, but with traffic and the wait outside, ten is cutting it close.

“You ready?” Rey asks me, as we head back to our desks. I slip my jacket from my shoulders, trading my shoulder holster for the one at the small of my back. She watches me, amused, as I pull a mirror from my desk, checking out my reflection, before dropping it back in my drawer and slamming it shut. “Or do you need a few minutes to make yourself pretty?”

I roll my eyes, trying to fight the smile on my face. Honestly, it’s not my fault. If she’s gonna look like _that_ , then I have to look like I deserve her.

“I always look pretty,” I reply to her amusement, flashing her a cheeky grin. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Kylo

Unlike the rest of the team, who borrowed cars from the unmarked motor pool, Rey is in her own vehicle. In her words, bad guys drive bad ass cars. If she wants to blend in, she needs one too. Which is why instead of a Crown Victoria or Ford Focus, we’re busting down the interstate in a bright red Dodge Viper.

I watch her as she maneuvers the clutch, the muscle in her leg flexing with every push of her toes. Her right hand never leaves the shifter, and I swear by the smirk on her face, she knows what she does to me as she grips the tip and strokes her hand down the shaft.

“You’re staring at me again,” she says, without ever taking her eyes from the road.

“Is there something you think I should be doing instead? Perhaps you have a sudoku book hidden in the glove box.”

“Ugh. I hate sudoku. We could talk about what’s got your panties in a twist tonight.”

“No?” I say, but with a tilt of my voice at the end.

“Is that a comment or a question,” she asks, openly laughing at me now.

I honestly stop and think about it for a moment, before answering, “Comment,” with more surety than I feel. “Besides, I’m not wearing panties.” The minute it leaves my mouth, I know it was the wrong thing to say.

“Do tell,” she replies, angling her head to openly ogle my crotch before turning back to the road.

I watch her in disbelief as she pushes the car well past the speed limit. It’s way too dangerous on a New York freeway, but nothing compared to what the car can handle. We whiz by a state patrolman, and I cringe, waiting for flashing lights that never come.

“You’re in rare form tonight,” I observe. She shrugs, never taking her eyes off the road.

“One of us has to be. Growling at Hux? Really? He’s not worth the air he breathes; you know that. It’s been a while since you’ve gone all caveman on me. Not that I’m necessarily complaining mind you.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug, trying to shove off her all-knowing stare. Even though, technically, she’s not even looking at me.

“Yeah, well, he has it coming. The stupid fucker’s lucky I don’t break his face for him. You shouldn’t have to deal with that shit. Especially from a nobody like him.”

“I’m a woman,” she says succinctly. “I’ve been dealing with that shit since the gender reveal. What I don’t need is my partner hulking out like Wreck It Ralph in Candyland.” I don’t bother to tell her she mixed up about half a dozen fandoms in that once sentence. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

I can’t. Not yet. I wouldn’t even know what to say.

She takes my silence as a refusal, and changes topics as she merges lanes.

“Typical man,” she says, shaking her head in amusement. “Would rather face the firing squad than have a conversation about his feelings. Fine. Afterwards. So, let’s prep for tonight. The guy at the door is mine, as is Rose, the female bartender. There will be four FBI and two DEA inside the club. Rose tells me Rafik spends most of his time in the VIP alcoves, doing cocaine lines off of strippers, so that’s where we’ll be too."

I had jerked my gaze to her at the mention of feelings.

She continues to rattle off the particulars for the op, but I only half pay attention. I know the drill, and I know what we're doing. Her rambling is kind of like her pre-game. It settles her nerves to go over every possibility and every eventuality. Me? I know that no matter how many scenarios you play out in your head, the one most likely to happen is the one you couldn't prepare for, like being transferred to North Carolina with three days' notice. 

I know my role tonight, and that's to back her play and guard her back. Where she leads, I shall follow.

She slows down to make a turn, foot hitting the clutch as her hand manages the gear shift. I never realized how sexy a stick shift could be until the first time I watched Rey drive this car. We've taken it out of the city a couple of times, taking turns opening her up with the roof down. I've always imagined parking on a deserted bluff, then sitting on the hood. We could pass a bottle of champagne between us before I spread her out on the hood for dessert.

"Kylo!" she snaps, humor and irritation filling her voice. "Are you listening to me?" I look over at her to see her laugh lines fighting through the scowl she's trying to force on her face.

"Nope," I reply, grinning ear to ear at her.

She groans at me, reading me like a book. She knows exactly where my mind wandered to.

“You’ve got my back?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Always,” I reply, letting the depths of my tumbling emotions slip into my voice. There’s the rub of it, isn’t it? I won’t have her back anymore, not after tonight. I knew at some point we wouldn’t be partners, which was a necessary adjustment if I ever wanted anything more with her. But now, I can’t have her at all, and she’ll by walking into the lions’ den with someone else at her side for no reason.

"Well, get your head in the game. We're here."

I look out the window as she slows to a crawl, the crowd of people in front of the club practically unmanageable. There are security guards directing traffic, urging people this way and that, as Rey pulls up to the Valet Parking and throws the car in neutral and pulls on the parking break. 

I watch, fascinated and awed as always, as Rey slips her skin, replacing it with someone else. Rey, the FBI agent, is gone, replaced by Rey, the party girl. She pops her lipstick out of her purse and slathers on a fresh coat, before handing me it to me to stick in my pocket. I open her glove box and first give her the badge, which she clips to the inside of her thigh holster, then her gun.

She lifts her ass up from the seat and readjusts her holster, lifting it so the top of the tight material skims the crease in her leg where it meets her lace panties. My chest tightens, and my skin burns as I watch her re-doing the straps to ensure it stays where she wants it, before smoothing the skirt of her dress back down, and her thighs, and the gun, disappear completely.

I let my breath out slowly, as she pulls more items from the purse sitting next to her.

Her IDs, both a fake driver's license and her FBI identification, come next, and I pocket the one while she sticks the other into her top. We look at each other, conversations and declarations passing in silence, before she takes a breath, and shimmies, literally settling her skin onto her bones.

In unison we reach for our com units, flipping them on and testing their function.

“Team one,” Rey says, and at the confirmation from the other end of the line, I repeat the process.

“Let’s do this,” she says, giving me a shit eating grin, before pulling on the door handle and swinging her legs out of the car.

I hesitate for a heartbeat, watching as she straightens to her full height, then follow her out of the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Rey

I lift from the car, making sure to smooth my skirt as I rise, and toss my keys to the valet. He openly ogles me, his eyes lingering too long on my bare legs, before ripping the key tag in half and handing me my portion. Instead of ignoring him, or giving him a disdainful look, I lean into his appreciation, giving him an exaggerated wink, then make my way out from behind the driver’s side door.

“Be gentle with her,” I say, making sure he thinks I’m flirting with him. “Don’t worry. I know how to pleasure a woman,” he says back, and it takes all my practice to smile instead of gag in his direction. Men. No matter how lame the line, they all think we should fall at their feet.

As I walk, I feel the grip of my Glock digging into my thigh, a constant reminder of why I am here, and what I am doing. At the end of the day, I have one goal and one goal only. Catch the bad guy and put him away. Everything else is bonus points.

The caveman has replaced my partner again, and while I can’t hear him growling, he’s actively baring his teeth as the valet lowers himself into my car. I walk past where he’s standing beside the passenger door, and link his fingers with mine as I go, pulling him behind me.

He looks good tonight, not that he doesn’t always look good. Longish dark hair styled just enough to look like he rolled out of bed looking that way. His dress shirt is open at the neck, his tie loose and dangling on either side. He’s still got his suit jacket on, and I honestly pity him for that. He’s already sweating under the heavy fabric, and it’ll only get worse as the night goes on. But it’s a necessary evil to cover his weapons. He’s tall, with shoulders a mile wide, but the suit hides muscles that go on for days. He looks like a walking wall. He’s started growing a beard lately, and his facial hair is jet black and coarse enough that I have to bite my cheek to stop from running my fingers through it every time I see him.

LeRoy, my CI, spots me immediately and steps forward to unlatch the velvet rope, moving aside as we skip the line. The people in front grumble, their displeasure at this obvious inequity made vocal, but at one glare from the 6’7 former college nose tackle, they immediately avert their eyes. I don’t blame them. I would too.

“Ms. Rey how are you tonight?” he asks me, his voice so deep I feel it in my bones. He leans down for a partial hug, and I lift my lips to his face, dropping a kiss on each cheek. I let go of Kylo’s hand to place mine on LeRoy’s shoulders, and Kylo steps up behind me, his palm resting on the small of my back.

LeRoy’s eyes go wide in consternation over my shoulder, and I know without having to look, that Kylo is once again baring his teeth. Why tonight, of all nights, does he have to get all up in his feelings? I mean, I know why. It’s just irritating that a man’s emotional stability is about as fragile as a newly hatched egg, and women are the ones accused of being led around by their hormones.

I plaster a smile on my face and force LeRoy to give his attention back to me. “I am flying high baby, can’t wait to get my party on. Is the birthday boy here yet?”

He makes a show of checking his clip board, putting on a production for anyone who may be watching,

“Not yet, but the rest of your party is still confirmed for their R.S.V.P.”

So Namir isn’t here yet, but as far as they know, it’s still going down. I run my fingers down his arm, his bicep so large I can only get my fingers around half of it.

“Thank you, love bug. I’ll see you soon. Maybe when you’re shift is over, we can party together.”

“Looking forward to it.”

In other words, I promise to let you loose as soon as we’re all done here. LeRoy, who while not active in the criminal world anymore, still has a lifetime of connections, and is one of my longest CI’s. He’s already scheduled to start a new job next week at a spot I’m sure is a front for human trafficking. This will most certainly not be our last dance together.

He pushes open the door to the club, and I’m immediately assaulted by the wall of sound and the hazy quality of the air.

Despite the fact that indoor smoking has been illegal in New York for a decade, and marijuana has never been legal here, the cloud is permeated with a flavor of vape smoke and Mary Jane. That’s not my concern, however, and I make a mental note to not let it bother me.

The music is pulsing all around me, and I can feel the base line thrumming up from the floorboards. My eyes scan the crowd, making note of the exits, number of employees and anything else that might be beneficial as the night goes on. I don’t so much as push my way through the crowd as glide, letting my body move with the bassline as we edge our way closer to the bar.

There’s a lot of muscle here tonight. Certainly, more than I’ve seen on previous trips to this establishment, both for business and pleasure. But nothing stands out enough to raise any reg flags that Namir might already be here.

“I count eight,” I say, as I press the button on my coms.

“Nine,” says Kylo, using pressure with his fingers on my hips to point me in the right direction, and I see the guy I missed standing in a back-corner, head and shoulders above the crowd.

The music changes over the speakers, and I lift my arms into the air, wrapping my hands around Kylo’s head behind me. He has to bend his knees so I can reach. He plasters himself to my back, and I enjoy the feel of his hard muscles supporting me. My hips sway in tight circles, lightly grinding myself against him. I hear him moan, as his fingers dig into my hip bones. It’s so tempting, to see how far I can push him—here and now. I move my way deeper into the crowd, eyes scanning constantly while I let the music flow over my body. 

And always, always, Kylo is at my back. It’s a thought as scary and it is comforting.

“Please don’t,” he begs, and there’s genuine pain laced in his voice.

I flip in his arms, my heels making it so we’re almost eye to eye.

“We have to blend in,” I play with him, my joints loosening as the beat of the music bleeds into my belly. Kylo looks at me, anguish and lust building behind his eyes.

“But do we have to dance?” he complains, and I throw my head back and laugh.

It’s not really his thing, dancing. Anything that involves crowds and loud music, he’d rather do without. But he’d stay out here with me all night if that’s what I wanted.

He’d do anything I wanted. Which is why I need to make up my mind about what I want. Fast.

“They’re playing our song,” I mouth at him, as Usher’s Caught Up blasts through the surround sound.

“Fine,” he grumbles, and I smile even wider. This is where years of Zumba come into play.

I take a few steps away from Kylo, giving me room to dance without him. I bend my knees and drop into a squat, counting on the crowds and the lighting, or lack thereof, to hide the gun on my thigh. If anyone managed to get a glimpse of the black lace squeezing my muscle, they’d simply think it’s a garter.

I work my way back up, bouncing in time to the music, throwing my arms out to my side in sharp and tight angles. Kylo smiles despite himself, and at my head nod of encouragement, finally steps back into my reach.

We move as if we’d choreographed it. Which, maybe we have. Years of working side by side, training side by side, has given us the ability to anticipate the others move before we think to make it ourselves.

Kylo spins me out, then pulls me back, and when I come to a stop, my back is against his chest. We step out wide together, his hands on my hips, dancing in time to the music. I catch our reflection on one of the mirrors angled on the wall, and despite his hesitation, we’re both grinning ear to ear. His grip is light; leading, but giving me enough rein to move on my own. Throwing out my ass, I run my hands from my head down to my crotch, doing a move reminiscent of Michael Jackson, before model walking out of his grasp, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. I turn, pop and locking with a hand on my chest and a hand on my hip, before striding back and dropping in front of him. Kylo jerks his head back as I land at his feet—not touching me, but staring down at me through his eyelashes as I put my hands on my knees and push myself back into a standing position. His breathing is coming in hissing gasps, and I ignore my body’s reaction to him.

I try to walk backwards away from him, but he grabs my right wrist and yanks me back to him, thrusting one of his legs between my own. A gurgle of pleasure escapes my chest, my head thrown back in happiness. I loop my arms around his neck, letting them rest lighting on his shoulders. With a hand on the small of my back, and another on my hip, he turns us in wide circles until the end of the song with a loose smile on his lips.

“This would be so much easier without heels on,” I whisper yell at him, and am rewarded with a chuckle that vibrates his chest against mine.

“You’ve had your fun. I need a drink,” Kylo says directly into my ear, and I nod and smile at his not so silent order to get him off the dance floor.

“Team two is in the building,” comes over the coms, and I glance in the direction of the door, watching as the DEA pair push their way through and head in the opposite direction. “And for future reference,” comes a disgruntled Finn, “if one of us can skip the line, then I think it’s only fair if we all do. Personal hygiene is apparently not a thing that everybody cares about. I’m going to need to shower with industrial greaser by the time this night is over.”

Kylo laughs in amusement as Ackbar’s grunt of appreciation flows through my earpiece.

“Noted,” I reply, trying to keep the humor from my voice.

“At least you made it in,” says Poe, petulance ringing loud and clear. “We still have half a line to go.”

“Then drive faster next time,” Kylo says with a sincere lack of sympathy. We’ve made it to the bar, and he hold up two fingers, signaling for the bartender’s attention.

“We can’t all ride in sports cars,” comes from Poe’s partner.

“Jealous?” snarks Kylo, like it’s his car, instead of mine.

“Keep the line clear,” Ackbar says, effectively shutting up the bickering, but I can still hear his amusement at the complaints.

Using Kylo as a battering ram, I shove my way through the line of people at the bar. Complaints rise up left and right, but when Kylo starts to growl again, the bitching fades away into shocked and scared silence. I can’t help but laugh. You’d think Kylo was as big and mean as LeRoy, instead of a six-foot-two thirty-something white dude. Not that he doesn’t have an eight pack that any woman would be happy to run her tongue over. Don’t get me wrong. He certainly does. It’s just, seeing him on the street, he’s not exactly intimidating. Not to me at least. I have seen strangers cross the road to avoid having to pass him on the street. But, there is nothing else in this world that Kylo takes as seriously as my safety, and sometimes, that makes him a little scary.

And sometimes, I use that advantage to get a clear line to the bar.

“What’ll it be?” Rose says, then does a double take when she realizes who I am under the wig and make up.

“Two whiskeys,” Kylo says from over my shoulder.

“How’s the party tonight?” I ask, bouncing up and down on my toes. Rose smiles at me, wide and genuine, before her eyes cloud over in concern. She’s new to the CI world, and I was on the phone with her all the way up until she pulled into the parking lot this evening to clock into work. It would be easier if I could tell her she’s not alone, and that she’s got other CI's in the bar tonight. But ensuring their safety is my number one priority, and the less that know who they are, the better. If when they’re standing right next to each other.

“We haven’t even gotten started yet,” she yells out, trying to be heard above the din of the club. “We’ll be here all night.”

That’s a disheartening prospect, but I smile reassuringly anyway. Kylo must sense the resignation coursing through my bloodstream, as he digs his thumb into a knot where his hand rests on my shoulder.

“God,” I moan, momentarily forgetting where we are and what we’re doing here. “Don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish.”

He brings his other hand from my hip, mirroring the motions of his thumbs into my shoulder blades.

“I’d do just about anything to hear you make that sound again,” he whispers into my non-comm ear. I know he feels my shiver as it crawls over my body, and I snap my jaw shut as another moan tries to slip out at his words.

The com in my ear bursts into life again, effectively pulling my focus back where it belongs.

“Team three, in the building,” Poe says.

“See,” Kylo smarts off, “that didn’t take you so long at all.”

“Next time you can wait outside,” Poe snarks back.

There won’t be a next time.

One way or another, this is it for us.

As soon as the lowballs of whiskey are placed on the napkins in front of us, Kylo peels his hands from my shoulders, pulling out his wallet and dropping two twenties onto the counter.

“Party later?” I ask Rose, half leaning over the counter.

“You better,” she replies, and I don’t miss the hardness in her voice.

“You have my word,” I say, as Kylo reaches around me to grab both our glasses off the counter.

“Team one is heading upstairs,” I say, before looping my fingers into Kylo’s belt loop to ensure I don’t lose him on the walk to the staircase. He’s got a glass in each hand, lifted above the heads of the crowd.

There’s another bouncer at the bottom of the stairs, with another velvet rope blocking the entrance. This one isn’t mine, but I trust LeRoy to have gotten me on all the right lists.

“Rey. Rey Smith,” I say to the guard, running my bottom lip between my teeth. When he lifts his eyebrow at me, I reach into Kylo’s pocket and pull out my alternate ID, giving it to the bouncer to confirm with his list.

“Tease,” Kylo growls into my ear, and I use the butterflies flittering around in my belly to bat my eyes at the bouncer again.

“You’re in alcove A,” he says with a bored expression, my smiles perfectly wasted on him. He hands me back my ID, and I slip it into Kylo’s pocket, with maybe a little more force than strictly called for in the situation. His lips nip at my ear, and I assume its only half for show for the bouncer.

As soon as the rope is lifted aside, I make my way up the stairs, eyes scanning the crowd as I go.

It’s quieter up here. More secluded. There are half a dozen roped off areas varying in size, each labeled with a letter on a pole standing in front of it. Two girls and a guy move in slow sensual motions, elevated on three different daises interspersed within the space. And there, in the biggest circle, with a mostly naked woman on either side of him, is Rafik.

He doesn’t pay any attention to us, too wrapped up in the girl closest to him, and Kylo and I hurry to our corner, adjusting the curtains to take in as much of the space as we’re able. It’s not as much as I’d like, after all, these areas are designed to give privacy. But it’s enough to give another thug count into the earpiece.

“We have six more guns up top, at least, and Rafik is in the building. No sign yet of Namir.”

“Acknowledged,” Ackbar grunts into the coms. “Everybody stay vigilant.”

I settle back into the couch, ignoring what sort of bodily fluids are probably embedded in the leather, before bringing the whiskey to my lips. Kylo follows my actions, and we clink glasses before throwing back a swallow. We can’t drink more than a sip or two, but we can’t not drink anything either. It’s a tight rope to walk, the life of being undercover in a bar.

“It’s going to be a long night,” I lament, taking one more sip of my whiskey before pushing the glass away. It’s low enough that you can tell I drank some, without partaking enough to affect my sobriety.

His eyes flash to me quickly, before returning to scanning the crowds below.

I don’t like the tension building at the base of my spine. Telling me something is about to go sideways. My spidey sense is a skill I’ve honed, and I know better than to ignore it. I hate when I see an explosion building and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“I know,” he chuckles, leaning back and draping his arm against the rear of the couch.

“I’m not a very patient person,” I say, and Kylo is laughing with amusement before I even get the words out of my mouth.

“I know that too.”

The tension between us, however, that’s something I can take care of.

I rise from the seat, scooting over until I’m hovering over his lap. He immediately adjusts his pose to accommodate me, knees closing, and I lower myself onto his thighs.

I turn my neck to look at him, and his face is scrunched up, a thousand emotions playing over his features. He’s resolutely refusing to meet my eye. I allow a little amusement to ghost over my features, admiring the hard set of his jaw.

“Kylo,” I breath, and cup his face in my hand, turning his head to look at me.

Kylo coils underneath my touch, his muscles tightening and straining as if getting ready for a fight. His fingertips dig into the meat of my hips, before he tugs me closer, resting his hands on the small of my back.

“Now, Rey? You really want to do this now?” he asks in a gruff voice, his eyes meeting mine before quickly turning back to the crowd. Thousands of unspoken words simmer behind his gaze, and a shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t want to do this now.”

He doesn’t want to do it at all.

“Yes,” I confirm. “Now. I think we need to.”

My lips are practically against his ear when I speak. It’s the beauty of a crowded venue. One would think music loud enough to echo in your bones would make it difficult to have an intimate conversation. But sometimes, when you’re a raindrop in an ocean of water, it’s easiest to be your truest self. And to be honest with those who know you best.

He’s quiet for a moment, and I watch as he gathers himself and settles his thoughts. His fingers have started tracing patterns up and down my lower back, and I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it.

It’s how we communicate, he and I. We have our own language, can read each other’s thoughts. Kylo says everything he can’t say out loud when he curls the ends of my hair around his finger. When he places his hand in the small of my back, guarding me from everything that could try to sneak up from behind.

"You know," he says, and he looks like it’s a relief to not have to say it out loud.

"Of course, I know," I say, and I spare him a glance before my eyes turn back to the club.

“How? How could you possibly know?” he asks, his voice full of awe. “I found out two minutes before you walked down the hallway tonight, and Ackbar claims he found out about ten minutes before that. We haven’t been apart since you walked into the building.”

I shrug. He doesn’t need to know that I found out about the transfer around three p.m. this afternoon. I’ve had time to get my plans in place. I know what I want. The next play is up to him.

“I was offered a promotion,” he says, both of us pretending I don’t already know all the particulars.

“Congratulations,” I reply, and despite everything, I’m sincere with the warmth and goodwill in my voice. I am happy for him. This position is something he’s wanted for a long time. He’ll be breaking into computers, instead of breaking down doors.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, and his displeasure is thick enough to get stuck in. “It’s the position I applied for last year. Or maybe the year before that. I don’t even remember anymore. It was a while ago.”

“This is a good thing,” I tell him, then stiffen when I see the club’s number two walk up the stairs, trailing two security behind him.

“Two o’clock,” I whisper at Kylo’s throat, leaning into him so he has an excuse to look over my shoulder. His fingers tighten on my hip.

The man walks up to Rafik, leaning down to speak in his ear, before straightening up to leave again. He leaves one of the security guards with Rafik.

“Heads up, Ackbar.” Kylo hits the button for our coms, relaying the scene we just watched. We’re silent for a minute, but all that happens is another girl joins the first on one of the raised platforms.

I’m the one to break the silence.

“What’s the problem, Kylo? I thought you wanted this.”

“The problem,” he says, like I’m being purposefully obtuse, “is that it’s in North Carolina. They want me there Monday.”

“Okay,” I say, keeping my tone nice and neutral.

“Okay?” he asks, his frustrations finally pulling a reaction other than disinterest from him. Heat burns behind his eyes when he finally meets my gaze, and something dark and forbidden pulls deep in my belly.

“You really want to have this conversation. Now?”

“Yes,” I implore him. “Now. Because we can’t move forward until we talk about what’s happening now.”

He makes a sound of derision, his body tightening under my touch again.

“We can’t move forward at all Rey. I thought you’re supposed to be the genius in this pairing. Why is this concept so difficult for you to grasp? The only reason I applied for this stupid position, ages ago by the way, was so that I could be with you. Now, that’s fucked twelve ways to Sunday. If I take the promotion, I lose you. If I stay here, I still can’t have you! I guess I could stay and request another partner, but I don’t even want to think about what that would do to your reputation, which is why I didn't do it years ago. I won’t have you if it ruins you in the process."

I squeeze my thighs together, letting the grip on my weapon dig into my leg. It helps to center me, and to keep my emotions from running away in a place where that could certainly get me killed.

“Kylo,” I breathe, his anguish affecting me on a cellular level. There’s nothing I want more than to pull him into my arms and promise him that everything is going to be all right. But I can’t, because I forced this conversation on us in the middle of a night club.

“No, Rey. Don’t Kylo me. We’re fucked, and not in the good way. Utterly and completely fucked.” His anger is palpable, and there’s a fine tremble coursing through his muscles. He opens his mouth before closing it, then tries to start again. Even over the pounding of the bass, and the chorus of a hundred people talking at once, his words hit my ears perfectly. “I wanted to lose myself inside of you. Instead I just feel lost.”

I clear my throat, biting my lip before I say what’s been on my mind for the last six hours.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I breath into his ear, as his fingers resume their trailing of my spine.

“Hmpf,” he scoffs disbelievingly. “What other way could there possibly be, Rey?” he asks, frustration making his voice sharp.

“Well,” I say, letting my words hang in the air between us. “We’re not partners anymore.”

His next sound is distinctly derisive.

“Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“What I mean,” I say, my voice entreating him to listen to me. To really hear what I’m telling him. I open my hand on his neck, turning his face so that he meets my eyes, “is that from now, until whenever you leave, there’s nothing that stands between you and me and every desire that’s ever crossed our imaginations.”

His intake of air is sharp, and the sound of it, unheard as it should be in the mass of noise, cuts me to my core.

“Incoming,” comes over the earpiece, and I tense for a different reason, as all thoughts of Kylo are pushed to the back on my mind.

There’s a surge of sound behind me, and without having to say anything, we both flip our coms, our conversation dropped until the task at hand is completed.

“That is a lot of muscle,” Kylo says, pointing out the obvious bodyguards making their way through the throng.

“Stay sharp,” Ackbar snaps, his voice tight as a bowstring.

I turn in Kylo’s arms, leaning my back into his front. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I rest my forearms on his, as I track the gang of muscle, and the crowd parting in their wake.

As one, they move to the stairs, and the bouncer lifts the velvet rope, allowing them into the upper VIP portion of the club.

“That’s our cue,” I singsong to the team.

Ackbar’s grunt of acknowledgement is the only response we get back in return.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rey

“Something’s not right,” I say, watching as the gaggle of body-guards part like the red sea at the top of the stairs.

“I need more than that,” comes through my earpiece, but unfortunately, I don’t have more to go on.

Namir enters my line sight, and then slows, freezing when we lock eyes. I quickly let my eyes swing left, as if I was simply in awe of the splendor, but at the way he tenses in his suit, I’m afraid I’ve fucked the game. After all, he hasn’t made it this long without having a spidey sense of his own.

“Namiri!” Rafik yells at the sight of his cousin. He stands, pushing the girls draped over him to the side, and opens his arms as if welcoming a neighboring king to his kingdom. Namir glances at him, then back to me, as if trying to decide whether to walk into his cousin’s opening welcome or turn and run away.

I move in Kylo’s arms, feeling his muscles coil and burn, sucking in the tension my own muscles are pouring out.

“Kiss me,” I mumble, knowing full well the coms are still open, and turn in Kylo’s arms to face him before he has a chance to offer up any resistance. I straddle him, feeling the skirt of my dress rise up high enough that the lace of my holster is showing, and quickly bring my lips to Kylo’s.

He’s hesitant at first, body tight and tense underneath me. “Kylo,” I whisper against his lips, begging him to get with the program, and he brings his arms around my body, pulling me closer into the warmth of his arms. I melt into his touch, always too much and not enough, and slip my tongue out to slide against his lips, begging him to loosen up for me. At the gentle contact, the dam breaks, and a moan slips from deep in his chest, as he hauls me tighter against him still and opens his mouth for mine.

My ears strain to hear what’s going on behind me, but my body reacts on instinct alone. I twirl my tongue around his lips, and he sucks my tongue into his mouth, pulling a gasp from me at the sensation.

When he thrusts his hips up, searching for friction, I know that this has gone too far.

I feel his length hardening against the crux of my body and bite his lip, trying to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. Unfortunately, for both of our libidos, all that does is make him groan even louder and dig his fingers into my skin.

“Kylo!” I hiss against his lips. He seems to take that as encouragement, and rips his lips from mine, trailing them over my jaw line. My internal muscles clench at the feel of his scruff rubbing against my face. “Focus.”

“What do you need, baby?” he asks me, in a voice so deep and husky, goosebumps break out over my skin.

Raucous laughter erupts behind me, and I breathe a sigh of relief that, from the sounds of it at least, Rafik joined his cousin and the strippers.

“I need,” I growl at him, resisting the urge to dig my fingers into his hair and yank his head back up to look at me, “for you to pay attention to the international criminals hanging out behind us.”

This time, when he stiffens underneath me, it’s as the realization hit him that he’s taken his mind off of the object at hand, if even for a few seconds.

“Shit,” he snaps, passion in his voice. I lay my head against his shoulder, enjoying the way his chest heaves as he sucks in air to cool his ardor.

“And this is why you don’t fuck your partner,” I whisper at him, trying not to laugh at the horror on his face.

“Course,” comes from over the line, and I jerk at the realization that our entire team just heard us making out, “maybe if you guys had fucked years ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem today.”

I cover my mouth with my hands, desperately trying and failing to hold in my giggles. Kylo just scowls in the direction of the dancefloor, as if he can see who said it through the hundreds of people gyrating below.

“They’re doing lines of blow off the pros, boss,” Kylo informs Ackbar, and I sit up straighter on his lap, preparing myself for what’s to come next.

“Team One is in place. Rakif and Namir are both here and accounted for,” I affirm.

“Team Two, assuming position.”

I listen as my team confirms their positions. There’s a lot of civilians in this place tonight, and we need to minimize the blood shed to as little as possible.

Bottom of the stairs, back exit, front exit, emergency exit. Swat behind the building, a DEA Tac Team taking up position in front. The vans filled with extra personnel and copies of the arrest warrants. The words to back up our deeds tonight.

Kylo runs his hand over my legs, but instead of with purpose, it’s back to being a steadying comfort. Something he doesn’t even realize he’s doing. A touch stone to calm his nerves, before we’re given the clear to reach for our weapons.

Then it comes.

“Team one, you are good to engage.”

*****

“FBI, You’re under arrest.”

Kylo and I announce ourselves simultaneously. I flip off his lap, pulling my weapon as I go, and land with one leg on the couch, and one leg on the floor, my weapon held steady in front of me.

Kylo stands, his weapon pulled before I have a chance to see it, and shows his badge as well. I rise, and we walk forward together, eyes scanning the muscle that has stood to surround our targets. There’s a commotion going on downstairs, but I ignore it, trusting to my team to handle their business while I handle mine.

There’s a split second, every time I bring a suspect in, when I can tell if they’re going to come quietly, or if they’re going to make a mess. I don’t even need half that long to know that Namir has no intention of going down without a fight.

“Don’t do it Namir,” I shout, even though I can’t see him through the bevy of bouncers blocking my view. “There’s only one way this ends for you. In handcuffs, or a body bag. Either way, you’re leaving this building with me.”

A wall of eerie laughter is the only response I get.

The first goon makes his move, and Kylo moves to stand in front of me.

Instead of pulling a gun, he pulls a knife, and Kylo jumps back out of the way, as boogieman number one jabs his arm out with purpose. Namir’s hired help is well trained. His movements sharp and precise. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else. I momentarily wonder why he didn’t go for his pistol, then realize that it makes sense; that they’d still try to make it out of the building without causing a scene. It’s just Kylo and I up here. If they can dispatch with us without brining any extra attention to themselves, they could potentially slip out unseen by blending into the chaos.

As soon as a weapon is fired, all that goes to hell.

Kylo dodges the man, stepping back and to the side, catching his assailant’s arm on the back swing, using both of their momentum to shove the bad guy’s knife into his own chest. At an “oof,” of surprise, he drops to a knee, blood already oozing from the wound.

The next guy lunges, letting his emotions rule his common sense, and it’s easy to dodge his bull-like body, letting him slip harmlessly by me and over the railing of the balcony. That seems to catch everyone off guard, as the ensuing fight slows for a moment as we all witness the big man grasping at air before the sickening thunk of his landing is drowned out by the cacophony of pandemonium that is consuming the once popular club.

I have a feeling its Yelp rating is going to take a dive after tonight.

I can see Rafik and Namir now, trying to force their way through the screaming women. Some of the girls have done the bright thing, and pressed themselves tightly into corners, crouching to cover their heads. The others are flailing themselves on their criminal patrons, expecting protection that’s never going to come.

Kylo is going head to head with a pair a thugs over to my right. They have him on size, I’ll give them that. They both look like they could crush his skulls in their hands. But he’s faster than them, and smarter, and their dependance on their weapons is a liability that Kylo and I don’t have. We’ve spent countless hours on the practice mats ensuring our wits and skill will best any we come up against.

Together, at least. We always win, when we’re together.

I see Kylo’s gun, tucked safely into the hidden holster at the front of his pants, so he can dispatch the heavies with his fists.

Namir and Rafik start edging their way to a back corner, and I know from the blueprints that it covers a hidden door that leads to the offices. A stairwell is at the back, leading into the loading dock behind the club.

“Go!” Kylo shouts, seeing my hesitation as I glance between him and our mission, but he’s out of his mind if he thinks I’ll leave him behind. I engage the thug to his left, who sneers at me and my little blue dress contemptuously, until I ram my heel into the corner of his knee and throw my elbow against his face when he bends at the unsuspecting impact. He’s not down. Not for long. But he’s on the floor with blood spewing from his nose, and it’s enough of a distraction for Kylo to finish of his guy. Who, from the ragdoll way his body collapsed to the floor, will be down for the count. The rest of this fight at least.

The whole thing took less than ten seconds, but I see the curtain flutter in the cousins wake as the girls scream unconsolably about not leaving them behind.

I jiggle the handle and am not surprised to find they’ve locked the door behind them.

“Step back,” Kylo says, and I pace three steps back and to the side, as Kylo lifted his leg and rams it into the door. The crack of wood splitting echos in the air, but it takes a second swing for it to burst from its hinges, splinters flying everywhere.

“Get better taste in men,” I throw over my shoulder as I follow Kylo through the door and hear him chuckle under his breath.

It’s dark, the only light coming from the exit sign over the door at the other end of the hallway. He lifts his fist in the air in the universal sign for hold, and I bring myself level with his back, weapon raised and locked, ready for his signal.

A flick of his fingers.

We step out into the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, bodies angled to face the walls. There are doors on either side, lining the hallway.

His hand reaches out flat, pausing my progress at the first door. He lifts a finger where I can see it. One.

The bedlam of the dance floor has faded. The sweat of the bodies eases into a musky stench more reminiscent of fear and mold. All I hear is the beating of my heart, and the slow and shallow beathing of my partner.

In silence, Kylo reaches for the first handle, twisting the knob without a sound. He eases the door open, then twists his body in and out, quickly looking for the enemy. With a nod, he steps through the doorway, gun trained to move as he sweeps it top to bottom.

“Clear,” he whispers into his coms.

They’re not up here. I know they’re not. But we have to clear the scene anyway. The one time you don’t, is the time you end up on a gurney with a bullet in your back.

It takes seconds to clear each room, but time feels skewed when you’re in a life or death situation, and hours feel like minutes, and seconds feel like days.

We repeat the process, mirroring each other’s motions. Door two, clear. Three. Four.

He stands behind me as we reach the end of the hallway, his hand on my shoulder, letting me know he’s there. I twist the handle, surprised that this isn’t locked as well. Then I realize the door doesn’t have a latch.

The minute the door swings open, silent on its hinges, chaos coats me in her loving arms once more. The ringing on the gun is deafening in the enclosed space, the bullet sparking off the wall behind us as Kylo and I duck for cover. Kylo returns fire as the door swings shut, and we throw ourselves to the sides of the door, hugging the wall.

I drop into a crouch, and in a move well practiced between us, Kylo shoves open the door then plasters himself against the wall. The expected bullets ring out, but the shooter isn’t expecting a woman on her hand and knees when he lets loose his clip. Before the moron realizes there’s nobody there, I fist him in the balls, using the momentum of his collapse and my standing up to throw my elbow into his face. I feel something, several somethings, crunch at the impact, and he tips over like a sack of potatoes, howling in pain, unable to decide which booboo to address first.

Kylo kicks him as we walk by for good measure.

“You good?” he asks me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“My elbow hurts,” I complain, as we move further down the back of the club. The FBI has breached the kitchen, and everywhere I look employees are lining up against walls and counter tops. Most everyone will be taken to the district, to sort out what they know and what they did with that information.

It seems everything’s wrapped up except Namir.

“Where are you hiding you little rat?”

Gunfire explodes twenty feet a head of us, and I speed up our pace, not quite running in the direction it came from.

Team Two is in the doorway that leads to the loading dock, but at our arrival, steps back to let me take the lead.

Namir, Rafik, and the smattering of guards they still have left are cornered on the dock, the TAC team in front of them, issuing orders to drop their weapons. The FBI behind, tightening the noose wrapped around their necks.

Namir turns in a circle, his gun out and steady, daring anyone to take the first step.

“Remember what we talked about upstairs, Namir,” I coax him, trying to hammer home the seriousness of his situation. “Body bag or handcuffs. It’s your choice. Think about your family. At least in lock up, you’d still be able to visit them.

I see it flash in his eyes, when he’s made his choice. To a man like him, a body bag is always preferrable to being locked in a ten by ten cage.

He raises his gun, barely a fraction of an inch, but I don’t wait. I fire, my weapon steady in my hands. I watch in slow motion as the bullet pierces his flesh, and the bone and muscle and blood of his kneecap bursts out the other side.

His weapon drops and he screams out in agony, dropping to the ground and reaching for his destroyed leg.

“Why do you always go for the knee?” Kylo asks me conversationally, as if this is a teaching moment and we’re on the practice mats at the FBI gym.

“Have you ever tried to walk without a kneecap?” I ask him, and I see him nod from my peripheral vision, as if that makes total sense.

It’s wrapped up fairly quickly after that. Watching your boss writhing in pain on the cold hard cement does put a damper in one’s desire to shoot it out with the police.

“Besides,” I say to Kylo, motioning him to follow me. I walk the few feet to where the gaggle of FBI personnel and medical techs are treating Namir on the ground. One group reading him his rights and securing his wrists and weapon. The other stemming the bleeding and giving me dirty looks for my use of force.

“Can I?” I ask hypothetically, already dropping into a squat by the fat angry man, who tries to bite me, until Kylo places his foot on his chest.

I pry open a few buttons, to show the Kevlar vest covering Namir Welche’s chest and belly. I knock it with my fingers once or twice, before pushing up on my knees and standing at my full height again.

“How’d you possibly know he was wearing a vest?” Finn asks, something akin to wonder in his voice.

“You don’t make it in this life as long as he has, kid, without taking some precautions. Remember that for next time.”

Finn shakes my hand; again, reminding me of a training room and not the middle of a successful bust, then wanders over to help the rest of the team cataloging the people that’ll be on the bus to jail tonight.

“You good, partner?” Kylo asks me, his hand at the small of my back.

I smile up at him, depressingly happy that at least we went out with a bang. No pun intended.

“Never been better.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Kylo

It's after two a.m. by the time we finish up all the paperwork. A few have already taken off for the night, but I'm waiting for Rey to finish up her side of things. Since her CIs got us into the club, she has more loose ends to tie up than the rest of us do.

I'm sitting on the edge of Fred's desk talking about his soccer game tomorrow when Rey finally emerges from the back. She doesn't say anything, just bobs her head in the door's direction as she walks through the room, saluting the team in a lazy, tired fashion as she goes.

Poe, who caught her signal to me, smacks me on the back and tells me he'll see me on Monday. I don't bother to correct him. We're friendly, but we're not friends. It won't make any difference to him Monday morning when I don't show up. I only have time to deal with one goodbye tonight, and it certainly isn't with him. 

"Do you always come when she crooks her little finger at you?" Hux snarks, as I leave my perch on his partner's desk.

"Yes, I do," I say distractedly, without bothering to turn in his direction. Then I pause, realizing that chances are high that this will be the last time I ever come face to face with the man. I pivot on my heel and head his direction until I'm hovering menacingly over his desk. I’ve got fifty pounds on him easy, but he always behaves as if he’s invincible. Towering over him in this fashion, it's easy to watch as his overstuffed bravado slips to reveal the weak-willed little man inside. I plant my hands on either side of his body and lean way into his personal space. He doesn't move away much, but his eyes are swinging wildly from side to side, looking for someone to come and rescue him.

If anybody watches, they know better than to interfere. This has been a long time coming.

"I've tried to be a gentleman about this. We both know Rey doesn't need me to fight her battles for her. But I've officially lost my patience with your passive-aggressive bullshit. We can do this, one of two ways. You can apologize, publicly, and we can let bygones be bygones. Or, you can continue to be a dick. I really hope you take option number two.

"First, I'll digitally wipe you off the face of the planet. You'll wake up next week and your car will be repossessed, the IRS will have frozen all your accounts, and by Friday, you'll be homeless and begging on the streets for a meal.” He scoffs at me, gearing up for some smartass remark, and I drop the rest of my good guy mask, growling right in his face. He blanches, the blood draining from his face, and he finally leans away to try to put some space between us.

I drop my voice low enough that he’ll have to strain to hear me. But I know he does. He’s practically vibrating with fear of what I’ll threaten him with next. I hope he listens well. This is not a scenario where my bark is worse than my bite.

“If I get even a whiff of you disrespecting her again, I'll kill you with my bare hands. I'll bury you so deep, they'll never find your body. 

"From here on out, it's yes ma'am, no ma'am, can I get you a coffee ma'am. You look at her like you were looking at Mother-fucking-Theresa. If your eyes even drift below her collar bones, I'll break all your fucking fingers. Do we understand each other?"

He nods frantically, his gulp audible as his overlarge Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

"Good. I'm glad we've cleared this up. You have a good night, Hux. I'm sure we'll talk again soon," I say jovially, at normal volume.

I don't know what'll happen Monday when he finds out I'm gone, but I'm tempted to drive by his house Sunday before I leave to slash his tires so that he doesn't forget about me.

When I stand up from his desk, Rey is standing in the doorway, watching me with an amused smirk. She tips her head again, and I nod in assurance before she turns and leaves our department.

She's waiting for me by the elevator.

"If he even blinks in your direction, you tell me. No matter what. No matter where I am."

"Kylo," she starts, her tone already telling me she thinks I'm ridiculous. 

"Do it, Rey," I bark at her, and she nods her head without saying a word.

We walk into the elevator together, both turning to face the doors. After she hits the button for the parking garage, she reaches for me, running the backs of her fingers against mine, before letting her arm fall at her side again. We make it to the garage before either of us speaks.

"Here," she says, tossing her keys in my direction. I grab them from the air, lifting my eyebrow at her. "Take me home."

“What?” I ask, my voice catching when I speak.

“By my estimation,” she murmurs, a little smile gracing her lips, “we have approximately 40 hours until you have to be on a plane. I plan on making the most of it.”

My stomach swoops, anticipation building at the base of my spine. My cock, always on the verge of embarrassing me when I’m near her, twitches in my pants at the insinuation of her words.

With that announcement, we head in the direction of her car.

We walk past my truck sitting in its assigned spot and walk to where the Viper is taking up two spaces in the garage's back.

I hit the automatic locks and watch in amusement as she kicks her heels off her feet, scooping to pick them up and, after opening the car door, throwing them into the back. Next comes her wig. That takes a minute as she pulls hairpin after hairpin out of the red mass. She releases a sigh of relief when the red strands of hair are finally lifted from her head and tosses that into the back area with as little care as she did her shoes. With another flick of her wrist, her brown tresses tumble down her back, and she bends in half, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair.

I've been leaning against the driver's side of the car, my arms on the roof, watching her shed the shell of tonight's persona. At the way her hair flows around her body, I have to link my fingers together, the urge to wrap my hands in her hair almost overwhelming. 

Without assuming her shooting stance, she lifts up the edge of her dress and pulls her gun out of its holder, checking the magazine and chamber before gently placing it in the back with the rest of her stuff. Her badge follows suit.

When she finally looks at me, I’m openly staring at her.

"Enjoying the show?" she asks, amusement and sass coating her like a second skin. Usually, I'd duck my head and brush off the tension between us. Make some sort of sarcastic joke. I think I've run out of time for those antics, though.

"Yes," I say sincerely, and relish the sight of the blush lightly filling her cheeks and flushing her skin pink down to her shoulders. 

She shakes her head at me with her half-smirk firmly in place and lowers herself into the car. I close my eyes, exhaling a breath I feel in my toes, and follow her in.

The silence is deafening. Neither of us bother with the radio, and I’m sure she can read my thoughts all over my face. The memory of Rey in my arms, her lips on mine, is running on repeat in my mind. I'm afraid to look at her, fearful of what I'll see.

There's been a line drawn in the sand between us since I first shook her hand. Look, but don't touch. Think, but don't speak. Dream, but never breach the realm of reality. Now, I’m driving with her to her place, leaving my car behind, with the explicit intentions to—to what?

“What are we doing, Rey?” I ask her as my hand tightens on the wheel.

“Whatever you want to do, Kylo.”

I release the breath I was holding, letting it out in an even exhale. “You know what I want.” Irritation with her coyness battles with the desperation in my body.

“But do I, Kylo? Do I really? You’ve never come out and said it. Barely hinted at it. I’ve practically thrown myself at you. Time and time again. And you always sidestep the issue, without ever saying a word. So how can you expect me to know what it is you want. Tonight’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to telling me how you feel.”

“How I feel?” My voice comes out in a growl, and I have to modulate my tone to keep from screaming at her. “I feel, like I’d rather gauge my own eyeballs out then be without you for one more minute. I feel,” I continue, and I know my voice is harsh, “like every day we go on like this, with you right there and me unable to touch you, I lose a little bit more of my sanity. I need to feel you under me, and over me. I need to bury myself inside of you and feel you clench around my dick. I feel,” and now I am yelling, and there’s nothing I can do to reign it back in, “like I fucking love you, and all you do is taunt me with it.”

My breathing is ragged, my heart thundering in my chest. I slow as we merge off the highway, shifting the car into neutral as I pull up to a red light. My vision goes squirrely at the outside, as I attempt to smother my wayward emotions.

“I love you too,” she shares, the amusement in her voice music to my ears. “Feel better?”

My eyes drift closed as a feeling of rightness settles in my chest.

“Yes, I do.”

Rey settles into her seat, resting her hand on my thigh.

“Good.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Kylo

“Having difficulties?” I ask, letting my lips trail up and down the back of her neck.

She lets out a plaintive moan of protest, trying, and failing, to get her house key into her door lock. I laugh, dark and dirty against her throat, at her total lack of coordination.

“What happened to my partner? I thought you were supposed to be some sort of secret ninja assassin. Yet, here you are, can’t even get your keys in the door.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses out, her breath so weak it sounds little more than a puff of air.

“That’s the idea,” I whisper in her ear, and feel myself harden more at the way she shivers from my words.

My hand trails over her neck, across her shoulder blade, and down her arm, until I’m covering her hand in mine. I guide her hand to the lock, using our combined efforts to get the key in the lock and push open the door.

“Show off,” she huffs, then squeals when I pick her up from behind and carry her into the house. In a heartbeat, I have the door kicked shut again and Rey pressed up against it.

She looks wild. Her breaths are coming in quick little pants. Her hair is a tangled mess. Her arms were filled with her shoes and her wig and the purse she didn’t use tonight, and when she drops them unceremoniously to the floor, I use my foot to kick them aside.

I bring my hands to her face, using my thumbs to part her lips as I bring my mouth her hers. She moans against me, her body arching up for that sweet friction we’re both craving.

Somehow, the more needy she becomes, the calmer I feel.

“Stay,” I command her, using my fingertip on her breastbone to pin her to the door.

“Bossy,” Rey sasses at me as she watches me undo my belt. She licks her lips in a way that sets elephants to dancing in my gut. “I like it.”

I wiggle my eyebrows at her, then take one step to the right. Her gun is nestled next to mine, in the waist band of my pants, and I pull them out one at a time, checking the chamber before placing them onto the little table by the door.

“There are few things sexier than a hot man playing with his gun,” she whispers, and I feel her lust all the way down to my toes.

I yank the leather through my belt loops, and Rey’s body jerks in sync with my movements. It’s intoxicating. Electrifying, and I can’t wait to see what other responses I can pull out of her before the night is through.

“Don’t you dare,” I bark at her, as I see her reach for the hem of her dress. “I’m going to strip you myself.”

“Then hurry up,” she urges me, a half smirk on her face. “Before I lose my patience and do it without you.”

Despite her dire warnings, I take my time riding myself of my shirt. Her eyes bore into mine as I unclasp my cuffs one at a time. I pull my shirt from my pants, and undo the remaining buttons before I let the garment slip from my shoulders. Bending over, I pull my shoes from my feet, followed by my socks, letting him stay where they drop.

“Enjoying the view?” I taunt her, mimicking her words from just a few minutes ago.

She licks her lips in a way that should be illegal.

“Yes.”

I walk the few steps separating us, but instead of removing her dress like she requested, I slip my hands between her and the door, and unclasp the invisible hook holding the intricate maze of straps across her back. The fabric immediately pools forward, and with a tug with my fingers, the material slips down her shoulders, stopping at the little zipper at her waist.

Without saying anything further, I cup her breasts in my hands. I feel the weight of them in my hands, and run my thumbs over the stickers covering her nipples. Rey arches into my touch, her hands rising to free her breasts from the rest of their confines.

“Do. Not. Touch,” I say again, letting my desire for her warm my voice. Her arms drop uselessly to her sides again.

“They hurt, if you don’t take them off properly,” she tells me, watching me with hooded eyes.

My head lowers to her breasts, and I let my tongue graze over the outline of the flower shaped pasties, while I knead her tender flesh in my hands.

“Good hurt,” I ask, looking up at her through my eyelashes, “or bad hurt?”

She seems to think about the answer for a moment.

“Bad hurt, when I do it. To-be-determined, if you do it for me.”

“Hmmm,” I say, before flattening my tongue across her nipple. Even through the thick material, I feel her tit trying to harden and bud in my mouth. “I have no desire to cause you the wrong type of pain tonight. And I desperately want your tits between my lips. Every time you toss me around on the mat, I want to peel these glorious breasts out of your sports bra and suck as much into my mouth as I can.”

“And you certainly have a big mouth,” she sasses at me. She hisses in a breath, as I drag my teeth against the breast in my hand.

“How do I get them off then?” I lift her breasts in my hand, sucking little bites into the underside of her flesh.

“Ummm.” She’s panting, goosebumps breaking out over her skin. “Coconut oil. In my bathroom. Rub a little on the petals, and they’ll peel right off.”

“Coconut. My favorite. Don’t move.” When she simply stares at me, I add, “Acknowledge.”

“I won’t move.”

It doesn’t take me more than a minute to walk to the master suite and locate the container of coconut oil on her vanity and make my way back out to where she’s standing. True to her word, she’s in the exact position I left her in.

“Coconut oil huh?” I twist off the lip, using my hand to scoop out a glob of the semi solid substance. “I’ve used it for cooking, but never would have thought to use it for other reasons.”

I rub the slick goo in my hands, enjoying the way her eyes watch me as I melt the sweet substance with my body heat.

“I use it as a lubricant.”

I freeze, the implications of what she’s just said running through my mind. I haven’t been with a woman in years, since right after I realized I was in love with my partner. Is she telling me she’s been fucking someone, and I somehow never knew it?

“My vibrator, Kylo.” There’s amusement in her voice, as she’s obviously followed my train of thought. “I use it with my dildo.”

Oh. Relief at her words unknots my intestines from the ball they just twisted themselves into.

“You’ll have to show it to me.”

I cup her breasts again, this time smearing the smooth skin with a thick layer of coconut oil. Her skin pebbles under my ministrations, and the glow from the light in the kitchen makes it appear as if she’s shimmering in the light.

It almost, almost, makes me wish I’d spread her out on the bed. That way, I could strip her naked and rub the oil all over her body.

There’s still time...

I dip my head again, letting my tongue lick stipes up her skin, nuzzling my face between her breasts and sucking mouthfuls of the sweet flesh between my lips.

She moans when my lips make contact with her skin, and I vow not to let them leave for the immediate future.

Using my thumbs, I rub the oil in and around the pasties covering her nipples. I alternate pressure, firm and soft, fast and slow, working the supple flesh between my fingers and using my nails to gently lift up the sides.

Rivers of oil are dripping down her belly, and every few seconds I chase my tongue down a rivulet, trying to catch it before it hits her dress. I know I’m not getting it all. I make a mental note to buy her a new one.

As I suck a petal covered nipple into my mouth again, she moans my name, somehow turning it into three syllables. “K...y...lo.”

Rey digs her hands into my hair. She runs her fingernails over my scalp, and pulls my hair tight between her fingers before loosening her grip and starting the process over again.

When I’m sure my ministrations have done their job, I use my thumb to ease up the already lifted edge of one of the stickers, using the excess oil to rub the adhesive from her skin. As soon as the first nipple is free, already pulled taught and hard from my actions, I suck it into my mouth, flicking the tight bud with my tongue.

“Kylo,” Rey hisses, and I take that as a sign to keep on doing what I’m doing. I swear her cleavage swells in my hands, expanding under my touch.

Her second nipple replaces the first, and I let the petals drop to the floor, long past caring about proper etiquette.

When I’ve sucked on her nipples until they’re red and swollen, I drop to my knees in front of her, handing her the edge of her skirt.

“Hold this for me.”

She’s still wearing the thigh holster, connected to the garter-belt around her waist. The holster itself is made of Lycra and Velcro and lace at the bottom, to help camouflage its purpose for anyone who may catch a glimpse of it.

Her pussy is covered in black lace panties that match her belt and weapons holder exactly. I bury my nose in her crotch, inhaling the scent of her arousal through the lace covering her mound.

Exquisite.

I do something I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw this holster, and run my tongue along its edges. I let my hands wander where they will, up the backs of her legs, squeezing her ass and spreading her cheeks before they trail back down her thighs again.

My dick is so hard it’s painful, and I give it a squeeze through my pants, trying to ease the ache building there.

I need her wider for me, open, and I lift the leg without the holster up and over my shoulder.

Rey squeals in surprise, and a chuckle slips from my lips as she grips for purchase in my hair and re-finds her center of balance.

Turning my head to the side, I use the tip of my tongue to write how desperately I want her into the tender flesh of her knee before flattening my tongue and pulling it up the inner seam of her thigh.

Gooseflesh breaks out over my own skin, as I take in the image of her lace covered mound, open and dripping in front on me.

I want to kiss her. I need to kiss her. But I need to taste her flesh against my tongue more.

Let’s compromise! I place my lips on her sex, pushing my tongue against the lace covering her clit and swirling my tongue around the outline of her lips.

Her breathing is coming in puffs, and her hips rock in little circles, searching out everything I can give her. I rub my hand up her other leg, squeezing her muscles, her hip, until I find the crease of her ass and the outline of her thong.

“More,” she begs, and I pull her thong tight against her body, making her wet and swollen flesh bulge against the satin and lace of her panties. I suck at the flesh escaping the confines of her underwear as a stream of gibberish flows from her pretty mouth.

Her wetness seeps through the patterned fabric, and I lap it up with my tongue. Her incoherent whimpers fuel me on as I trail the outline of her panties down to the slit of her ass, lifting her leg off my shoulder to give me the access I crave.

Rey chants my name, “Kylo. Kylo. Kylo,” as I work my tongue around her mound, letting my teeth scrap against her outer lips.

“More,” she pleads, and I smile as I suck her clit into my mouth, lace and all. I pull her panties tighter still, loving the way they bite into her skin. Her hips thrust against my chin, as she uses her hands against my head and the door as leverage to get me where she wants me.

“Mooore,” she begs again, and I can hear the tension in her voice. I can feel the tremors running through her legs, and her orgasm building deep inside her belly. Her scent is heady in my nose, and I never slow my assault with my tongue as I lap up her juices.

With her thong pulled tight between her pussy lips, I find her entrance with my fingers. I coat myself in her slick, before plunging them into her core and sucking her clit between my lips.

She cries out at my penetration, arching against the door, and I set a pace that would make angels weep with my fingers and use my tongue to make love to her pussy.

Her breathing is coming in gasps as she grabs my head and holds me to her. She thrusts as I suck, and with a final clench around my fingers, comes in a spectacular fashion. Her cries fall freely from her lips, without any attempt to rein them in or hide them from the neighbors. Rey freezes her hips, her nails digging into my scalp almost painfully as I slow my fingers and lessen my suction on her lips.

I watch her through my eyelashes as her chest shudders and heaves, her breathing evening out as I ease her through her orgasm.

She’d better enjoy the reprieve while it lasts. It won’t be for long.

I lower her knee from my shoulder, and, at last, hook my fingers into the band of her panties and pull them down her legs. Her garter belt and holster still grip her leg in a vice.

When I stand, I bring her legs with me, wrapping them around my waist.

“Condom?” I ask her sharply, as I trail my teeth and lips over her breasts and up her collar bone.

“Clean,” she huffs, already rubbing her sensitive bud against the zipper of my pants. “IUD.”

That’s all I needed to hear.

Rey wraps her arms around my neck, trusting that I’ll never let her fall.

I turn on the spot, looking for a suitable surface, and with a handful of steps towards the kitchen, have her flat on her back against the dining room table.

“Fuuuck,” she hisses between clenched teeth, and I belatedly realize that the table to probably freezing against her scalding flesh. “Hurry.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

I don’t bother to remove my pants and underwear. I simply pop the clasp, lower my zipper, and shove my sports briefs down enough to free my dick from its confines.

I’m swollen, and achy, and I know I won’t last more than a few minutes when I’m finally buried hilt deep inside my partner.

My partner. My soulmate. My best friend.

And finally, after years of denying what both our hearts and bodies craved, my lover.

I guide myself between her folds, coating my length in her juices. She’s wet, so wet, that it coats her thighs and drips onto the table. I need to learn to clean up after myself, when I eat a meal that delicious.

“Ready?”

I stroke myself, teasing us both as my head plays with her entrance. I hold myself back, however, until she gives me the say so.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

I try to go slow. I really do. But her warmth seems to suck me in, and before I know it, I’m slamming my cock home, bottoming out as our pelvises grind together.

Rey lets out a keening whine. Something high, and desperate, and a sound I never thought I’d hear from her. It’s like crack for my cock, and before I realize it I’m pulling out and slamming home. Again, and again, and again. Until my fingers are leaving bruises in her hips and her ass gliding against the wooden table is making a painful sounding rubbing sound against the surface.

I let go of her hips, instead wedging my hands between her back and the table and pulling her into a sitting position. I haul her to my chest, so her breasts are rubbing against my pecks. The motion changes our angle, and we both moan wantonly as I help her ride my cock.

“I’m close,” she gasps, and all I can think is “Thank God,” because I have to close my eyes to stop myself from pouring myself deep inside of her. “So close.”

“Touch yourself,” I order her, and she obeys me obediently, one arm slipping from around my back to come to rest between us. But it doesn’t rest. Far from it. I watch with lust filled eyes as Rey’s fingers twists tight little circles over her bud, tipping herself over the edge of orgasm with a cry and a shudder.

“Kiss me,” I command, and again, she obeys without hesitation, using her free hand at the base of my neck to drag us closer still. Our kisses are wet, and sloppy, but the feel of her lips against mine, her heart pounding against my chest, the way her gasps tickle the hair on my face, sends me crashing against her. My orgasm rips through me, so strongly that I see stars, and my hearing buzzes as the blood rushing through my nervous system and my synapsis fire off too fast for my body to make sense of it.

I tingle, and burn, and blaze with the satisfaction coursing through my body as Rey gives a final tremor, and collapses against me. Her forehead is resting against my cheek, and with each heave of my lungs, my sweaty chest caresses against hers.

It’s almost too much. My body is tingling, my skin too tight, too hot. If I feel like that, I can only imagine how Rey must feel. I wasn’t exactly gentle with her.

“Are you okay?” I croak out, as soon as I have enough oxygen to form words again.

“Thank you,” she replies with a tremble in her voice.

I really take her in. Her skin is pink and flushed, sweat and desire and oil coating her skin to a fine gleam. Her back is still heaving, though from the feel of my hands on her back, her heart is finally regaining something resembling a normal rhythm. That makes one of us. I don’t think mine will ever beat the same again. Her face, ruddy and beautiful, is relaxed against my shoulder, and her legs are still wrapped tight around my waist.

“Thank you,” she says again, her voice filled with vehemence, and I watch in awe as a tear slips down her cheek.

“I love you,” I tell her, hoping she can hear the ardency in my voice.

“I love you too,” she replies, dropping a kiss onto my shoulder as her eyes drift closed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Rey

Wow. Wow!

My senses are overloading as I let Kylo take my weight, and attempt to get my emotions back under control. I’m slick, and sweaty, and my muscles have a tremor in them I can tell is going to leave me sore when I wake up tomorrow.

I can’t remember a time I felt this good.

Kylo carries me into my bedroom, crawling onto the bed and gently placing me in the middle. He holds me like I’m something breakable, and drops lazy kisses into my skin as he caresses me. Or, maybe he’s holding me like I’m precious to him. After all, you treat things you love with care.

I stretch out on the mattress, feeling languid like a cat, but Kylo immediately retreats, standing at the foot of my bed.

“Leaning so soon?” I pick on him, squirming under the intensity of his stare.

“No. Never. They’ll have to drag me out in handcuffs.”

I knew he was a dirty one.

“If it’s handcuffs you’re interested it, I can make that happen,” I say, smiling at the way he groans and rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

“Stop it, you minx.”

Minx? Really? I don’t bother to hide my giggle.

“What are you doing then?” I ask, genuinely curious. He just stands there and watches me squirm under his stare. Or maybe I’m squirming because I just had the best two orgasms of my life, and instead of joining me in my bed, the man who gave them to me is standing where I can’t reach him. I’m not sure it was two orgasms to be honest. It quite possibly could have been one drawn out supergasm. It would explain why my limbs still feel like they’re tingling.

“I made a mess of you,” he says, and I grin before sliding my hands down my slick and messy torso. Between my legs isn’t much better.

“Yeah you did,” I croon, trying to entice him to do it again.

He’s still got his pants on. I realize, that sometime between the dining room table and my hand eye coordination returning a few moments ago he’d tucked himself away and pulled his pants back up around his hips. They’re unclasped, the zipper spread wide, but all the good bits are covered non the less.

“I thought you may want to take a shower.”

I lay there watching, trying to interpret the awkward behavior of my partner before I finally realize what’s going on. He’s standing up straight with his shoulders thrown back. His hair is standing up in all directions, and there’s a thoroughly debauched look about him. But for all that, he won’t meet my eyes, instead he’s looking somewhere over my shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” I ask him, trying, and failing, to keep my amusement off my voice.

“No,” he spits out immediately, in a tone that says clearly, ‘yes, I am, so fuck off and stop judging me.’

He is just too damn cute for words.

I sit up on my elbows, allows my knees to part to the side. My dress is still wrapped around my middle, like some sort of warped 80’s belt. My thigh is starting the burn where the holster is still digging into it.

It’s high past time I rid myself of both of these accessories, and pick up another. One that’s large, firm, and fits inside me like a glove.

“I’ll ask again then. Are you leaving?”

“No,” he replies, this time confusion in his voice.

“Are we done for the evening?”

“No,” he breathes, and his eyes snap into focus, finally meeting my stare.

“Then I see no need for a shower yet, when you’re just going to mess me up again. I wouldn’t mind some help getting out of this holster though,” I say to him, and let my knees fall even wider, so that my garter and everything above it is bared to his view. “Lose your pants too. There’s no need for them either.”

Kylo smirks at me as the disquiet he’d pent up leaches from his shoulders. He sticks his hands into his pants and underwear at his hips, giving them a shove and pushing them down his legs, until they pool at his feet and he steps out of them and crawls onto the bed.

My legs part for him expectantly, but instead of climbing between them, he picks up a foot in his hands, digging his thumbs into the arch of my foot.

A moan, deep and wanton, slips from my lips as shivers of pleasure shoot up my spine.

“Oh God,” I beg, as he places little kisses on my ankle, still massaging my foot, “please, don’t ever stop.”

“I don’t have to, you know.”

My eyes keep drifting closed in bliss, no matter that I’m desperate to keep him in my vision.

“Oh, I know you don’t. I could come again just from you rubbing my feet. Why did I never think to make you do this for me before? Those heels are killer, man.”

He chuckles in amusement, but sobers quickly.

“That too, but no. That’s not what I meant. I don’t have to take the job in North Carolina. I can stay here, with you. We can make this new dynamic work. I mean, I may have to kill Hux. But I’m in the FBI, so that’s not much of an issue. Frankly, I bet most people would thank me for it.”

I laugh through clenched lips, wiggling my other foot in front of him until he takes the hint and switches legs. He starts the process over again, digging his powerful fingers into my heel and trailing his lips over my ankle and up the inside of my calf.

“Sorry to break it to you lover, but no, you can’t. For the job, and for killing Hux. It’s sweet of you to offer though, on both accounts. I’ve always secretly thought murder was a fantastic way to cement a new relationship.”

Kylo snorts through his nose.

“But don’t worry babe. I have a plan.”

“A plan, huh?” Kylo mumbles against my knee. He drops my foot back onto the bed, making his way further up my legs with his fingers and his lips. His hands lead the way, kneading my muscles and writing secrets with his fingertips, and his lips follow the trail, licking at my salty sticky skin with the flat of his tongue.

I’m still over sensitive, everywhere, apparently. The feel of him making his way up my body is forcing the breath to catch in my lungs.

“What sort of plan?”

My brain is short circuiting, and it takes me a second longer than it should to register what he’s said. This is dangerous. I knew it would be amazing between us. Epic. Earth shatteringly explosive. But I didn’t realize that the minute he laid his tongue against my skin I’d lose my ability to think. I haven’t been functioning at a level higher than slug matter since he pinned me up against the side of my car in the car port.

“A good plan. You’ll like it. I’m still working out the kinks. Until then, I hope you enjoy airports. We’ll be spending quite a bit of time in them.”

Kylo’s huff of amusement blows against my sensitive sex, and I arch in response. I can’t tell if I need more, or if I need to get away from a second onslaught of his mouth. It never occurred to me before tonight that being eaten out through the lace of my panties could be such an erotic experience. Or that the texture of the lace would leave me so raw.

“Where’s the clasp?” he asks me, lips against my nether region. My chest aches, and I realize I’m holding my breath. When it whooshes out of me, it pulls a whimper from my throat.

“Small of my back,” I tell him, and raise my hips off of the mattress as he drags his fingers up my pelvis and over my hips, coming to rest palm up at the small of my back.

He makes quick work of the latch, unclasping the lace covered spandex from around my waist and pulling it towards him. I try to lower my hips to the bed, but Kylo grabs my ass in both hands, leveraging my hips even further from the sheets, holding me open and wide before him.

I gasp as the unexpected movement, as his thumbs now dig into the meat of my ass. He pulls my seam apart, and his warm breath caresses over my most sensitive areas.

“I needed to see you like this,” he says, not taking his eyes from my pussy. “Bare in front of me, with nothing between us but air.”

He lowers his mouth to my entrance, swirling his tongue around my perineum and uses his thumbs to pull me open even wider before thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I’m aware, dimly, that he can probably taste himself inside of me. The thought alone is enough to send another wave of moisture to pool between my legs. Where Kylo greedily laps it with his tongue.

He doesn’t linger, though, much to my disappointment, and is on the move before I can build up a rhythm. He sucks on my lips, flicks his tongue over my clit, then pulls me closer to him, so he can graze his teeth over my hip.

The action pulls a sharp inhale of breath deep into my lungs, as white-hot pleasure shoots out over my body.

His whiskers burn a path over my tender flesh, until he’s sucking little love bites into where the gun holster meets my flesh.

Kylo lifts my leg by the knee and hooks it over his shoulder, rising from his belly as he does so. It pulls my leg at a delicious angle, the fire in my muscle fueling the fire in my belly. Watching him loosen the Velcro of the holster, before sliding it down my leg, is a special type of turn on I didn’t know I needed.

I hiss in pain as the holster releases its grip on my leg, and worry flashes in Kylo’s eyes, before he discards the miniature tactical gear off the side of the bed.

“Hurt?” he asks me, massaging where the holster left lines and indentions deep in my flesh.

“Mmm,” I shrug, knowing it’s not much of an answer. “Call it a necessary evil. It doesn’t hurt while I’m wearing it, too much. Just when I take it off, and my circulation fights to return to normal in that leg.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, looking me in the eye as he lays gentle kisses against my abused leg.

I feel the flush creep up my chest, careening over my shoulder blades, but I choose to ignore the way his words cause butterflies to erupt in my belly.

“The dress,” I remind him, far past caring that my voice is weak and thready.

He nods at the reminder, and shifts forward some, forcing my legs to spread even wider. It was unnecessary. Kylo has a freaky long arm span, but I suppose I can’t complain, when he suddenly straddles my thigh, digging the remaining knee between my legs and grinding it against my core.

“This dress is ruined, I hope you know.”

I lift my shoulders in answer. I could care less about the stupid dress. “It died for a good cause. We’ll remember it’s sacrifice fondly.”

He slides the destroyed fabric over my hips and down my legs, crawling back from over me as he goes.

I’m suddenly bereft without his touch, and lean up on my elbows, following with my eyes as he bunches up the destroyed dress and brings it to his nose. He inhales deeply and a shudder starts at his shoulders and courses down his body.

“I think I’ll keep this,” he says, his eyes boring a hole into my gut, “and those wasted panties laying on the living room floor out there. Bring them with me to North Carolina. So I can smell your pussy whenever I get lonely.”

It’s my turn to tremble, at the timbre of his words and the thickening of his voice. His dick is straight against his belly, pulsing in time with his desire, and it’s the first time tonight I’ve taken a moment to really admire what a specimen Kylo Allan is.

“Can I make love with you again?” he asks me. I pull my gaze away from his throbbing dick to see he’s discarded the dress to the floor with the rest of our clothing.

I smile at his turn of phrase, and crook a finger in his direction.

“Please and thank you,” I say, and a small smile tips up the side of his lips.

Kylo centers himself between my legs, grasping his cock and wetting himself in my slick. He hovers above me, one arm braced at the side of my head. His forehead is resting against mine, and while I’m watching him, he’s staring down at the line of our bodies, watching where we’re about to merge.

“You’re so wet, baby. So fucking wet. I can still taste you on my lips, the way you coated my face with your come.”

He kisses me, thrusting his tongue between my lips, licking the top of my mouth and sucking on my tongue.

He lets go of his dick, instead pushing his fingers into my entrance and rubbing his fingertips against the spongy walls of my channel. I cling to him, my arms wrapped tightly against his back, trying to ride out whatever pleasure trip he’s got me on.

He breaks our kiss with an audible pop, and I whine in displeasure, until his lips start on a path down my chin and over my chest.

“I’ve dreamt about this for so long. The way you’d look underneath me. Your hair spread out on a pillow. Your cheeks flushed hot from the blood pumping through your body. The noises you’d make, as you rode my cock, begging me to fill you and stretch you until you break around me.”

His lips close on my nipple, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue. He brings his teeth into play, lightly scraping the hard peak between them, then sucking away the sting. He lets go of my tit, but doesn’t go far, sucking a mouthful of my breast into his lips, pulling the blood to the surface of my skin.

His fingers never stop working me, slow, then fast. Deep, then leaving me altogether, to rub his fingertips over my folds and under my hood before starting all over again.

“So wet. So tight. There’s so much of you to taste, and I have such little time.”

Without warning he enters me, pleasure chasing fire as he pushes over muscles unused and abused from our frantic joining earlier.

He doesn’t hesitate until his pelvis rubs against mine. Then he moves his hand from my breast, cupping my knee and lifting, and suddenly he bottoms out that much more.

When he’s as deep as he’s going to go, he pauses, resting his cheek against my breast, my chest already heaving underneath him.

“Exquisite,” he whispers against my skin, and then he starts to move.

Kylo pulls his hips away, dragging his dick against the sensitive spots in my walls, before plunging in until he hits my cervix, wrenching a cry from my lips. His pace is slow but brutal, as if he’s desperate to touch every part of me, to pull all my secrets from my hiding spots.

I grip him to me, to urge him faster, but Kylo gathers my hands in his, pulling them tight over my head and stretching me out beneath him.

I try to push against him, searching out relief for the horrible tension building in my belly. My legs are shaking, my chest heaving. My pussy clenches around his cock, pulling him back in with every drag of his hips. But I still need more, and the razors edge I’m standing on is a line between pleasure and pain.

Tears leak from my eyes, and though Kylo lowers his head to lick the salty dops from my cheeks, he still won’t take me where I need him.

Thrust, bottom, drag. Thrust, bottom, drag. It’s tortuous, and radiant, and I’m on the verge of hysteria from the need of something more, when without warning, my orgasms bursts inside my belly, firing all my synapsis in a symphony of chaos.

He doesn’t change his pace. Doesn’t miss a stroke. Thrust, bottom, drag. And now, with each snap of his hips, he pulls a wave of pleasure out and over and between us.

I cry out underneath him, my body arching and clenching around him. My vision blurs, and I squeeze my eyes shut to better handle the sensations coursing through my limbs. I need to curl in on myself, to ease the tension already building at the base of my spine. A cocky little smile blooms on his face, but is quickly lost to one of determination. I feel his sweat drip onto my skin, and it’s as if it sizzles at the contact. The smallest impression is pulling the extremist reactions from my overused body.

“I need,” I weep, not even knowing what I’m asking for.

“What do you need?” he growls against my face, then covers my mouth with his before I have a chance to respond. Tears are still leaking from my eyes. I guess it’s for the best. I don’t know what I’d say anyway. I don’t know what I need, or what I want. Other than him.

“I’ve got you,” Kylo promises, before loosening his hold on my wrists and bringing his hands underneath me to rest at my back and ass.

I take his full weight for less than a heartbeat before suddenly the world shifts, and I’m looking down at Kylo’s back against my pillow, my hair curtaining us in a cocoon of silence.

“Ahhh,” I whimper at the change in angle, trying to gather my wits about me. My hands are tingling as the blood rushes back into my fingers, and I flex them against Kylo’s chest, restoring my circulation.

He surges up to kiss me, his hands roaming the bare terrain of my back. I bend to meet him halfway, locking my arms behind his shoulders and holding him in a half crunch position as I take him apart with my mouth.

“Yes,” I hiss between kisses, and that seems to be the signal he as waiting for.

Kylo’s arms wrap around my back, covering me completely with his forearms and hands. I feel the shift as he digs his heels into my mattress for purchase, thrusting up with a frenzy I didn’t know was possible.

I hold on to him for dear life; half from pleasure, half from fear of being bucked off, and we end with his face buried between my breasts, his gasping sending goosebumps over my body.

His orgasm is something beautiful to behold. He stiffens underneath me, his muscles coiled tight, popping and bulging against the strain of keeping his heart in his chest. My muscles clench around his pulsing dick, and another orgasm courses through me, triggered from Kylo’s release.

Instead of consuming me, this time, it rolls through me. Like the waves at low tide, breaking against the beach. Subtle, gentle, but with every surge reminding you of its power.

Kylo slows underneath me, his tendons and sinews releasing their grip and allowing his body to slacken. I loosen my own hold, letting his back touch the mattress, and collapsing on top of him trying to catch my breath. I don’t even bother to move my hair away, inhaling a few strands with every breath.

“Wow,” I understate, when I finally have some breath back in my lungs.

Kylo chuckles underneath me, his hands running in soothing circles over my arms and back.

“Uh-huh,” is all he manages to get out.

He softens while still inside of me, and even that slow sensuous drag of flesh, the feel of his body adjusting against mine, pulls a silent whimper from my lips.

I’m exhausted, and sore, and can’t wait to do it all over again.

But first, “Now, I’m ready for that shower.”

Kylo’s laugh is so free that it makes me laugh as well, if only because I rarely see him this relaxed.

He rolls me off of him, placing me gently on my side, and pushes my hair out of my face.

“I’ll go get it started,” he says, and drops a searing kiss on my lips before making his way into the bathroom.

I reach for my phone off the bedside table, and send a message to Ackbar before putting it back face down and joining Kylo in the shower.

Me: Make it happen.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Kylo

Rey: Is it bi-costal living, if the two states you live in are on the same coast?

A smile tips up the side of my mouth, while I check my watch for the dozenth time this morning. There’s a department meeting at nine, held every Monday, according to the email I read forty-five minutes ago, and my new boss promised to swing by my cubby on his way to the conference room.

A cubby. I have a cubby. Or at least, that’s what they called it. That’s new—and weird. As are all the obsessively perky people I’ve run into since I walked into the building at 7:30 this morning. It’s going to take some getting used to. Seeing all the smiles. New Yorkers aren’t known for their cheerful personalities.

Me: Stop distracting me with the facts. You know what I meant. Hux give you any problems this morning?

I lean back in my chair and picture Rey at her desk. Boring dress pants and button-down shirt. Hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. The look of pity Ackbar will give her when she’s putting my shit in a box for me. And the beady little eyes of Hux waiting for his moment to pounce.

Rey: Haven’t seen him today. Rest easy. I don’t think he’ll be a problem anymore.

“Humpf,” I scoff, knowing that as long as he’s around her, he’ll always be a problem.

“Ren.” My head snaps up at the sound of my last name, and I sit up straighter in my chair, looking towards the middle-aged man who’s just stuck his head into my cubical. “It’s time. Let’s go introduce you to the team.”

I hop out of my seat, trying to pretend he didn’t just catch me texting with my girlfriend my first morning of my new job, and shove my phone into my pants pocket. Grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair, I swing it onto my shoulders, then run a hand over my tie and through my hair, trying to ensure I look as presentable as possible.

“We assign new cases at these meetings, and go over the status of ongoing investigations. Both sides come to this thing. We like to be a big happy family here.”

I can’t tell if he’s being serious or sarcastic, so I decide to skip over the family comment. We turn a corner, and walk the ten feet or so to the elevator.

“Both sides, Sir?” I ask, not quite understanding what he means there.

“Analysts and Field Agents. I know in some branches, never the two shall meet, unless an agent needs to talk to an analyst directly. But here in the South, we like to encourage our employees to mingle.”

Mingle. Great. I’m being forced to make friends, in a job I didn’t ask for, in a state I don’t want to be in. Fabulous. I smile at him, as fake as it is, and follow him out of the elevator.

I don’t need to make friends. I’ll be in New York every weekend anyway. At least, every weekend Rey doesn’t come to me.

“This way.”

The place is a maze, for all that it’s half the size of the New York offices, and I realize after the second turn I’m never going to be able to find my way back to my desk without him.

Which sucks, because I’m already feeling grouchy. I don’t want company. I want to brood alone.

So of course, the conference room is filled with people.

Not only is every chair at the giant-sized table taken, but the row of chairs around it as well, leaving clusters of groups standing against the wall, chattering away until they are called to order. There must be fifty bodies shoved into this room, and I wonder what the fire marshal would say about this.

“Where’s Skywalker?” my boss asks a younger looking man sitting at the head of the table. My boss. My boss. Son of a bitch. I don’t remember my boss’s name. Please God, don’t let me have a reason to use it until I get back to my desk and can open my emails again.

“I’m here, I’m here,” a voice behind me pants, and I turn to watch a harassed looking woman push her way into the room. She reminds me of a nurse matron. Tiny and gray, but someone on instinct you wouldn’t want to mess with. “Sorry. Getting my new girl set up.”

“You too?” boss man asks, reaching out and shaking the newcomer’s hand. “That makes two of us.”

“Yup, just transferred in from New York.”

“Huh,” boss man huffs, but I don’t catch the rest of his reply, as a buzzing in my ears steals what’s left of my hearing. My gaze moves to the doorway in time to watch the most beautiful woman in the world saunter into the room, her smile proceeding her like a bannerman.

If I squint my eyes, I can see the faint outline of my hickey on her collarbone.

I know I must look ridiculous. But I can’t grasp what I’m seeing. Rey stops a few feet in, grasping a woman in a fast hug who jumped out of her chair when Rey entered the room. They say something to each other, nod and hug again, but my ears hear only the pounding of my own heart. And the bees that must be swarming around my head, distorting all of my senses.

My boss catches sight of me, and gives me a curious side long glance, and I shake my head and take a step back, still unable to bring my thoughts into order.

Rey follows the woman she arrived with over to speak with my boss, and I follow her movements with my eyes. She pauses in front of me, and the sound comes rushing back into my ears, as if I removed noise cancelling headphones. She’s smirking like she’s just cracked the world’s greatest secret and chucks me under the chin, effectively closing my mouth.

“Careful lover, you’ll catch flies that way.” Then she’s on the move again, sucked into rapid conversation with the woman she came in with. 

I only realize I was clenching my fists when I straiten my fingers and the blood flows back into my fingertips.

Skywalker looks behind her, checking me out without any attempt to hide what she’s doing.

“Must be the boyfriend, huh?” she says, turning back to Rey. “The one you transferred with.”

Rey doesn’t look in my direction, but I see the laughter light up her face.

“I prefer partners with benefits, but I guess boyfriend will work.”

She throws me a wink, as our new boss calls the meeting to order.

The End

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